


Once Upon A Christmas Eve

by unbroken_halo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/pseuds/unbroken_halo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely, single Harry, prompted by his godchild, makes a wish on the Eve Of Christmas; all he wants is a family of his own to celebrate with. He wakes Christmas morning with Draco in his bed, and a passel of kids running amok in the house. How/why the wish came about has Harry wondering if he's stolen this life from someone and if he needs to fix that. But does he really want to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written Dec 2014 for the 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2014 on Slythindor100 at Livejournal.

**Prompt used:** [](https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3ycgpPURbbwyCPgLRHQ1TNMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite)

Harry startled awake, his heart pounding as he panted and shook off the sensation of falling out of bed. Rubbing his face, he tried to calm the racing of his heart, one hand pressed to his chest as if he could hold in the frantic rhythm. The dream that he'd been deeply ensconced in was fading quickly despite the feeling of disconnection he still felt. A tapping sound at his window surprised, and distracted, him from his musings, shoving his heart back into his throat.

Patting on the nightstand, Harry found his glasses and he dropped them on his nose before leaning over and opening the window for the post owl. He smiled at the large brown bird, the delicate layer of snow on its body melting as it settled on his knee.

"Hallo, Hermes. What've you got for me so early?" 

He shuddered as Hermes shook, the icy drops of water pelting his bare chest. Harry took the parchment, grimacing at the nip he received from the Weasley-Granger Family owl when he jerked up his t-shirt from the other pillow as well and dried them both off. 

"Thanks. Sorry, you'll have to fly down to the kitchen as I've got nothing for you in the bedroom," he offered. This time he was given a clip to the head from a wingtip when Hermes took off from his duvet-clad leg.

Scowling, Harry unrolled the parchment and his frown quickly turned to a smile as he read the missive from Rose, Ron and Hermione's daughter.

_Dear Harry,  
You are coming for Christmas Eve, yes? And staying for dinner? Please? Why aren't you here, yet? You do remember it's tonight, right? Mum says to remind you because you'll get distracted and forget while you are working. Christmas Day we go to Nan and Grandad's, so we won't be here if you show up late. I think I wrote that down correctly. Mum speaks really fast, so please don't forget and hurry over soon. Please!_

_Rose._

_P.S. Harry, don't forget the wine, either. It's your turn.  
Hermione_

Laughing, Harry grabbed his wand off the nightstand and scrawled a response before whistling for Hermes. The bird flew in the bedroom, a piece of bread still dangling from its mouth. He held out the note, tucking his fingers from the outstretched claw and shivered as he watched Hermes leave.

With a flick of his wand he closed the window and burrowed back under the blankets to try and sleep a bit longer. Thank Merlin, he hadn't forgotten inspite of his busy schedule, but it was nice to be reminded. The holidays were especially hectic for him and he usually waited until the last minute for everything. Fortunately, Andromeda had forced him out shopping before he became undulated with orders. Everything he needed for the gathering was ready to go.

Sighing as he realized that sleep was only a memory now, Harry flung back the blankets. Might as well get some more work done. He still had one order that he needed to finish, despite the holiday, and he didn't want it tainting his fun that evening.

~*~

Dinner eaten and presents opened, Harry sat back on the sofa and Rose climbed up next to him. She snuggled into his side and Harry ran a hand through her soft auburn curls.

"Thank you, again, Harry for my presents. I really like the clothes and the things for Harold."

"You're welcome, Rosie." Harry had outfitted the pygmy puff Harold for Rose since it had been his idea to buy the bright purple ball of fluff for her birthday last month.

"Do you really think he'll sing for me on Boxing Day like Luna said?"

Harry laughed as Hermione scowled and answered before Harry had a chance. "No. Uncle George told you there wasn't anything extra to your Puff."

"Well, I think, he just might, if you want it enough," Harry told Rosie. Rosie squealed and threw her arms about Harry, squeezing him tight. She let go with a quick kiss to his cheek then bounced off the sofa and ran up the stairs.

"Don't encourage her, or Luna, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Oh, let her have fun while she still can, Hermione. Who knows? Magic is a strange and wonderful thing. It _could_ happen."

Hermione huffed out a breath and continued to pick up the paper from the gifts then she paused to place his gift to her: a whittled statuette of Crookshanks, on the mantle. Normally, Harry worked with metals and stone, but for this gift he felt it called for wood. He'd found an exotic tree from Brazil to carve the cat and the natural striations of the wood matched the cat's gingery coat.

Bringing Crookshanks to life for Hermione once more made him feel as if he hadn't disconnected himself from the world in spite of his spending so much time alone. Harry turned his attention to Hermione again as he waited for her to respond.

Running a finger over the polished wood, Hermione sniffled. "I know. I just don't want her disappointed when she finds out magic isn't the be-all, end-all and it can't fix the hard lessons in life."

Rising to his feet and crossing the room, Harry wrapped his arms about her then whispered in her ear. "I think she knows, but let her have a little bit more childhood wonder, you know how quickly it goes."

"I do," Hermione murmured. Crookshanks twisted and stretched, padding across the mantle to sniff the scented pinecones decorating the top and then curled into a crescent shape. He blinked his orange eyes and yawned then closed his eyes when Hermione rubbed his carved back.

"Thank you, Harry. I miss him so much. You did a really fine job of this one."

Harry grinned as he listened to her tone change. Fifteen years after Hermione had rescued Crookshanks from the Magical Menagerie, he went to sleep in front of the fireplace and never woke. Hermione had been devastated. He'd already been working on a piece for her but immediately began one of the beloved half-kneazle.

"Thank you," Harry murmured. "It thrills me that you like him and it was my pleasure. He was a great cat, and I miss him, too." He pressed a kiss to her hair as they watched Crookshanks sleep.

"Oi! Let go of my wife!"

Hermione laughed and shook her head as Harry turned around. Ron came down the stairs with Rose bouncing at his side. She was dressed in the fuzzy robe and pyjama set Andromeda helped Harry pick out for her. The golden caramel colour complemented her fiery auburn hair and pale skin. Harold, the pygmy puff rode her shoulder, his vivid purple fur clashing wildly with Rose's ensemble. Harry realized that she would soon be too old for bedtime stories and silly gifts, like her puff, from him. But not just yet, though, he thought as she hugged her father then each of them in turn and ran to the tree.

"Now, dad?"

"Make your wish, Rosie, and then it's off to bed with you." Ron began extinguishing the other candles on the tree as he held the flickering light out to her.

"Harry, too!"

Ron chuckled and sent a candle Harry's way, floating a second white taper over to Hermione as well. "We'll all make a wish, little one. How about that?"

Rose nodded then took a deep breath, her cheeks filling and puffing out like a chipmunk's as she sucked in air. Harry tried not to laugh as she nearly burst, blowing the fire away in a gust that felt as if it had ruffled his hair. 

"You next, Harry! Make it a good one."

Ron and Hermione doused their candles and leaned together, sharing a soft kiss over their unlit candles. It made Harry happy to see them still so in love after all this time and he closed his eyes, making his wish. Harry sucked in a short breath and pursed his lips. He blew a steady stream out, hearing the flame flicker and fight to live before the hiss of the wick signified its loss of the battle.

Rose clapped and Harry opened his eyes to find Ron and Hermione staring at him. 

"What?"

"Nothing, Harry. You certain you don't want to come with tomorrow? You know Mum always extends the invite."

"I've got work to finish and with as many people that are going to be at the Burrow tomorrow, it's better if it's just family."

"But…"

Harry cut across Ron with nothing more than a look, and Hermione squeezed Ron's hand. He shrugged when Ron frowned then placed his candle back on the tree. "Fine."

"That it is," Harry said, and turned to Rose.

"Come on, Rosie, let me put you to bed."

"I can do it myself, Harry, but I suppose you can tuck in my feet extra tight."

Several hugs and kisses later, Harry exited Ron and Hermione's house. He stepped outside, shivering in the gently falling snow as he prepared to Apparate home. He glanced up into the night sky, seeing one lone star shining through the cloud cover. It winked at him and Harry thought back to the wish he'd made, wondering why he'd even wished for what he had.

Impulse, yes, that was certain. And for Rosie as well, but after seeing Ron and Hermione's affection, the melancholy thought of spending Christmas Day alone had crept in before he could fight it. So, wishing for a family of his own had seemed like the best thing. What could it hurt, really?


	2. Christmas Morning

**Prompt used:** [](https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/beebZi7AfsaUubfG7SBlqtMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite)

Harry stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel about his waist. The fogged over mirror cleared with a swipe of his hand and he stared at his blurry reflection. Adding his glasses to the mix didn't change anything and Harry rubbed the condensation from the glass with another towel.

In spite of spending the evening with Ron and Hermione, he actually felt lonely. Why didn't he have a special someone? He didn't think thirty was too old, especially for a wizard, but perhaps he was wrong. Many of his friends had already been married, some for several years, and many had children, too. What was wrong with him that he couldn't hold together a simple relationship with anyone? He'd tried with Ginny and while they had had a good relationship, they both wanted different things from that relationship. He'd also tried to 'play house', as Hermione put it with a few wizards, but those, too, had ended, some quite badly.

Harry eyed himself, wondering if maybe time had eroded his appeal, or if it was just the fact that he sequestered himself away with his work instead of socializing. That had been a complaint from some of his lovers, although most had enjoyed the status of being "Harry Potter's significant other".

But, even as he pinched a bit of his flesh at his stomach, Harry didn't think it was his appeal or his lack of socialization that had anything to do with not having the kind of family he wanted. He just hadn't found the most compatible person out there for him, yet.

Tugging the towel from his waist, Harry padded into his bedroom, drying his hair and body as he walked. He pulled on his pyjama bottoms and tossed the damp towel back into the loo before settling down beneath the down, quilted comforter on his large, empty bed.

A charm kept the soft, flannel sheets warm and Harry wiggled his toes in the toasty blankets as he covered up. Lying back, Harry stared up the the top of the four poster canopy and sighed. He reached out, placed his glasses on the nightstand and took up his wand, flicking it to dim the lights. He closed his eyes, yawning as he readied for sleep to overtake him.

It seemed he had only just closed his eyes when Harry thought he heard water running through the pipes. He tried to ignore it, but the sound continued and a shrill whistle began to accompany the rainfall of water. It lasted only a few moments, but the cheery, high pitched noise, which Harry finally made out as the tune of "God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs."

Harry's heart hurt for a moment as he recalled the last time he'd heard the song imbued with such feeling. He had to be dreaming. He rubbed his eyes and hissed when he pinched his arm between his forefinger and thumb. Still the song persisted, so Harry reached for his glasses and had just settled them on his face when the door to the loo opened.

A puff of steam exited the room first and then a man, dressed only in a towel followed. His hair, dark and slicked back with moisture was a dark, blond colour and just past where his collar would be, if he were clothed, the ends curling across the broad set of his muscled shoulders.  
Harry blinked and continued to stare at the man, taking in the sight of a slightly scarred chest that tapered down into a very toned set of abdominal muscles. Drops of water ran south, absorbed by the colourful green terrycloth wrapped about the man's waist.

"Like what you see, Harry? We might have a few minutes to indulge in whatever fantasy you are dreaming up before the children wake."

Harry pulled his gaze away from the fantastic male specimen to glance back up at the face. He'd thought he'd recognized that voice. The tone and consonance of the words tingled along his senses. When the realization of the identity of the person standing nearly naked in his room hit him, Harry felt the room spin. He clutched his fingers in the blankets and noticed that his fluffy down comforter wasn't the same.

"Harry… are you feeling well? You look especially peaked."

Harry listened to the voice and still it charged right through him while he continued to take stock of the room. Many things had changed; furniture, colour scheme, and pictures on the walls, even though the room itself appeared to be the same one he'd gone to sleep in last night.

"Harry, answer me. You are starting to worry me."

Harry finally dragged his gaze back to the speaker, blinking at him through his glasses. He licked his lips and took a deep breath before speaking. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy grinned at him, and then laughed. The rumbling bass sound rolled through Harry, sparking off all sorts of interesting sensations and feelings. He blinked again as Malfoy's lips spread into a grin and Harry was given a glimpse of straight, even and white teeth.

Just seeing that wide smile forced a memory on Harry. One of a long night wrapped in Malfoy's arms. Last night. His body ached in many places, a good and familiar pain/pleasure sensation that indicated he'd both topped and bottomed last night. He glanced down and blew out a breath as he saw red patches and kiss bruises on his chest. He touched one particularly dark spot, hissing at the gentle blossom of pain that the pressure from his fingers sparked.

"Been a while since you called me that. After last night, I didn't think I'd still be in the crup house for subjecting you and the children to the Manor's Christmas Eve gathering."

Harry glanced up, still fighting off the sense of being in exactly the right place and time and yet, feeling completely off balance. "I…"

Malfoy's smile dimmed and he took a step forward, moving closer to the bed. "I knew it. That shellfish must have been off. Let me call Blaise. He'll make a housecall despite it being Christmas morning. Don't want to disappoint the children as they are looking forward to going to the Burrow this afternoon. Harry…"

Harry watched as Malfoy's long fingers came toward him. They looked strong and capable, warm though slender and he felt the tips brush against his forehead before his eyes rolled up and the world went dark.

~*~

Dammit!" Draco reached out and caught Harry in his arms before he tumbled out of bed. With a grunt and a lurch, he managed to heave Harry back onto the mattress and settled down beside him. Placing the back of his hand across Harry's brow, then his cheek, Draco frowned. Though the skin under Harry's eyes was dark with fatigue, he didn't feel feverish. In fact, Draco was certain he felt more clammy than anything, though he wasn't sweating.

He really wanted Blaise here now and carefully stroked the fringe back from Harry's head waiting for him to wake. However, he didn't want to leave Harry's side to make the Floo call. It wouldn't be long before Rigel and Acacia would be awake. Teddy would be along shortly as well, all of them wondering why Harry wasn't up and playing Father Christmas.

The padding of soft footfalls proved Draco's prediction and Acacia, his and Harry's youngest at five years old, paused at the open door. She rubbed her eyes and blinked at him, giving him a gap-toothed grin. Her bright pink all-in-one pyjamas covered her from neck to feet, her toes in fuzzy ball-like slippers shaped just like Pygmy Puffs.

"Father?" Acacia whispered softly and stepped into the room.

Draco beckoned her forward. "Daddy isn't feeling well, princess. I need you to go wake Teddy and have him Floo Healer Zabini." He leaned down and kissed the top of her forehead.

Acacia giggled then whispered. "I told him not to eat Gran Narcissa's broccoli, but he didn't listen."

Draco tried not to smile at the mention of his mother's dinner not being up to snuff and only nodded. "He does that sometimes. Now, can you help Father out by doing what I asked of you?"

She nodded. "Can we open up presents after Daddy wakes?"

Draco cleared his throat, trying to be patient with the child. At least she wanted Harry to wake first. "Yes, sweetheart, now, please go get Teddy."

"Okay." Acacia turned and ran from the room, shouting Teddy's name at the top of her lungs.

Draco flinched and his worry deepened when Harry didn't even stir at the sound of her voice or when Rigel let his displeasure at being woken be known by screaming at his little sister to quiet down.

"Come on, Harry, wake up."

Draco twisted the ring Harry had given him last night as he heard Teddy's voice calling out Blaise's name over the whoosh of the Floo.


	3. View of the Past

**Prompt used:** [](https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/HatHx6o0Gbx_a45C2fdzh9MTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite)

Harry awoke to the sound of his godson's voice echoing in the fireplace. He rolled out of bed and looked around after he placed his glasses on his face. Sunshine shone through the windows and danced upon the floor indicating to Harry that it was still early morning. Nothing else had changed though; the blankets on the bed were his own and he was alone in the house. The pictures on the wall were of Ron and Hermione. Teddy and Andromeda and even Mr and Mrs Weasley waved back at him, and nowhere in sight was the half-naked Draco Malfoy.

He felt a bit of disappointment in that thought. What in Merlin's name had he eaten last night that had given him such strange dreams? He was going to have to firecall Hermione to find out exactly what liquor she had used in the Christmas pudding. Teddy's voice, followed by Andromeda's, called out to him again, pulling him from his rumination of the odd situation.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Harry muttered, pulling on his dressing gown as he walked out of the bedroom to the large Floo in his sitting room.

Kneeling on the hearth, Harry spoke to them. "Morning. Happy Christmas!"

Andromeda's expression changed and Harry wondered if maybe he'd slept through the holiday. "Harry, Christmas isn't for another six months. You feeling well?"

"Oh, err…" Harry ran his hand through his hair and nodded. "Just a bit tired; I was up late last night."

"Right, well, I need you to come into the shop. Draco is here and wants to speak with you." She leaned closer to him and instinctively, he moved toward her as well.

"It's about the new commission from the Ministry."

Something about this conversation sparked a memory for Harry, but the sensation was fleeting, and the memory fled. "New commission?"

Andromeda looked back into the room then turned to Harry again. "The mask, Harry. Merlin, you must have been busy last night. You've not started on it already, have you?"

Harry sat back, pulling his head out of the fire, recalling why the conversation was familiar. The Ministry had decided to make a museum to the war, and in order to not point fingers at anyone when asked for donations, they had created a committee that commissioned artists to recreate 'wartime artifacts'.

Dean Thomas, an apprentice to Ollivander's, had been signed on to recreate replicas of Dumbledore's, Voldemort's and Harry's wands for a display about wand lore.

Other artists, portrait painters and animators were engaged to design portraits of people that had sacrificed their lives during the final Battle at Hogwarts. Because of Harry's new business in working with metals and stone, he'd been consigned to duplicate the Death Eater's mask. 

His appointment and assignment had been so controversial that it had taken years for the committee to finalize the details. In fact, it had been five years ago that he had had this conversation with Andromeda and met with Draco Malfoy for the first time since the trials. He thought back to the conversation, certain that if he showed up at his workshop he would relive it word for word.

Malfoy's request came back to him as if it had happened just this morning instead of five years ago.

"I'm begging you, Potter. Please don't take this commission."

Harry had stared at him as if Malfoy had lost his mind. "It's just a symbol, Malfoy, and really what harm could it do if I don't imbue it with the magic? Besides people need to remember and not forget why the sacrifices were made."

"You, of all people, should know that objects have power. This is not a good thing, and I have lodged a protest with the committee."

"Right, well, you do that, but I am going to tell you that the Ministry wants this time capsule museum, and they intend to get it."

Malfoy scowled. "We'll see about that."

Harry watched Malfoy leave his shop in a swirl of cloth reminiscent of Snape's billowing robes. He also recalled thinking that Malfoy had finally grown into those pointy features.

"Harry…"

How in Merlin's name had he jumped from the present to an alternate one and now back to the past? He closed his eyes, knowing that he was going to awaken sometime soon and everything would be normal. He just had to wish hard enough for it or alter his current reality. Harry pinched his stomach and grimaced with pain.

Opening his eyes, he glanced around and found himself still seated on the hearth. He closed his eyes again, twisting the flesh of his thigh this time, a bit harder than before, thinking more pain would obviously work.

"Harry…"

"Harry?"

Andromeda's voice faded and Harry heard Teddy's once more. Only this time it was filtered through the throbbing of his leg. 

"So what is wrong with Harry?"

Teddy's voice, deepened with time, inquired about his health and Harry cracked one eye to see where he was at now. Standing next to Teddy was an older version of Blaise Zabini, dressed in the lime green robes of a Healer from St. Mungo's. Zabini wasn't his personal healer, but honestly, he wasn't certain he didn't need a healer.

Perhaps he'd knocked his head on something the night before and again, he was still dreaming. He didn't move though, wanting to gauge his surroundings before fully immersing himself in the situation.

He nearly groaned when he realized he was back in the alternate present, his head resting in Draco Malfoy's lap, while the man's fingers carded through his hair. The sensation was soothing and he nearly arched into the petting, but decided at the last moment to keep still and listen to what Zabini had to say.

"Technically, there isn't anything wrong with him. He is fatigued and slightly dehydrated, but the potions I'm leaving with you should take care of that. I can try to Reenervate him, but he is resting comfortably, so I say let him sleep. He'll awaken when he's ready."

"Thank you, Blaise. I appreciate your coming on such short notice."

Malfoy's voice was soft and he still ran his fingers through Harry's hair. Although it unnerved him some to be in this position, he had the sensation that this wasn't an uncommon thing between them. 

Harry clenched his eyes shut when his head was gently moved off Malfoy's lap and onto the pillow. Heard the footfalls leaving the room and waited another few minutes before opening his eyes.

Teddy was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at Harry.

"Hello, Teddy."

Teddy's glare deepened and he shook his head. "Who are you, and what have you done with my godfather?"


	4. Ring Of Truth

**Prompt used:** [](https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/OvBnZOfHE5UCUgKvzIwQdNMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite)

 

Harry swallowed, his eyes focused on Teddy wondering how the boy knew that something was truly wrong. "I am your godfather," he stated carefully, not knowing what else to say to Teddy's accusation.

Teddy cocked his head as if listening to an inner voice only he could hear, and Harry studied this version of his godson. He still had the same blue hair and amber coloured eyes. Teddy was also the same height and his voice was doing that odd creaking-squeaking-deepening change that every boy near the age of twelve experienced. Perhaps it was the Animagus gene that matured Teddy so much quicker than his other godchild, Rose, but this version was eerily similar to the boy he'd seen just a few days ago.

Harry had memories of meeting with Andromeda and having lunch at the Leaky, but he also had another set. He recalled travelling with his children and Draco to Andromeda's home. Of laughter and dinner and hot chocolate with fluffy, melting marshmallows after being out in the snow for their annual snow fight.

"What's going on in here?"

Draco entered the room, carrying two delicate bottles and a medicine spoon. Harry grinned at the sight. It had been years since anyone had dosed him, and it showed him that Draco was used to caring for their small children, and though he had vague memories of them, a blond boy with a star name and a bouncing, giggly dark-haired little girl named after a berry, the images in his mind of them were distinctly blurry and inconsistent. That saddened him because he loved Rose and Teddy with an intensity he'd never felt before they had come along, and could feel the same stirrings within him for the as yet unseen children he and Draco had adopted together. For Draco, too, he reasoned if he was being entirely honest with himself.

"I'll say it again. Something is not right with Harry," Teddy offered in explanation and turned to Draco. "Are you certain we should give him those potions?"

Draco glanced down at the potions then at Harry, just looking at him for what seemed like a very long moment. Harry felt his face heat under the searching gaze before Draco looked back to Teddy. "You think Blaise missed something?"

Teddy bit his lip, contemplating his answer to Draco, and Harry knew that Teddy respected Draco's opinion of him. He knew, that the same respect Teddy afford Draco was returned from Draco, as well. It was without a doubt he sensed that this Draco and Teddy got on like a house on fire, so the odd sort of non-communication between the two of them only disturbed him a little. The fact that they were talking over him was immensely more disconcerting.

"I don't know, really, but I do know something isn't right."

"Blaise said he was fine, but I shall call him back if you think otherwise."

_Blast!_ Harry was never going to figure this out if other people kept interfering. "look, as much as I appreciate your concern--"

Harry paused as Draco and Teddy turned to him, looks of stunned horror mingling with surprise on their faces for one distressingly long moment before they both collected themselves and pulled that Black family mask on. Harry had seen it more than once on Andromeda's face, but it was fascinating to see it replicated on both Draco and Teddy.

"See what I mean?" Teddy waved his hands at Harry. "My godfather doesn't say things like that. He blunders through life and conversations as if he has no filter on him whatsoever."

"Hey! I am sitting right here, you know." Indignant, Harry crossed his arms and glared at Teddy.

Draco snorted. "While I agree with some of that statement, it has been a trying few days here, Teddy. Perhaps Harry is just overly fatigued as Blaise said and it is coming out in an unexpected way. He did have this problem a few years ago before the Ministry opened its historical society."

Those words brought something to the forefront of Harry's mind and before he could grasp onto the memory, it was gone again. He had to get to his workshop. Harry tossed back the blankets, only to yelp when he realized he wasn't wearing anything but his briefs. He jerked the bed clothes back across his lap. "Do you mind if I get dressed? Then we can discuss my mental status and whether or not I need to be committed to the Thickey ward or not, later?"

Teddy scowled, and Harry knew he would have a fight on his hands with his godson. But that would come later.

"An excellent idea," Draco held up a hand to Teddy's protest and continued. "It's Christmas and there are two very excited children downstairs awaiting the day. I've already Floo'd Ron and Hermione. They will be arriving soon for the first round of visits; we are going nowhere with Harry being ill. I suggest you make your way downstairs to the sitting room. Hopefully Rigel and Acacia haven't eaten all of the cinnamon sticky buns yet, and we can open our gifts to one another."

Teddy huffed, his hair darkening to a purple tone as his anger and upset bled through for a moment then the colour returned to the deep blue he always wore. "Fine. I'll start the kettle, too, then."

"Thank you, Teddy," Harry said and though he received a narrow eyed glance in return, he also got a nod. Teddy left them alone, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Harry turned to Draco, seeing the concern appear on his face before he settled down on the edge of the bed. Draco clasped his hands together, his fingers twisting the ring he wore before he shook them out.

Harry caught his hand and though a sense of warmth blossomed through his, he also had the thought that he was holding Draco Malfoy's hand for the first time. He studied Draco's fingers and the platinum crest ring, recognizing his own craftsmanship. Pride roared through him as he looked at the quality of the ring and he looked up at Draco.

"It looks right there," Harry said after making the connection that the ring was firmly situated on Draco's right hand. 

"I wondered if you still thought so."

Harry blinked, looking into Draco's face and studying him. Wondering, what Draco knew, Harry ran his fingers along Draco's the warmth generated from the friction almost as soothing as the fact that Draco allowed him to continue to hold his hand.

"You think I let a preadolescent make my decisions for me, Harry. Or should I call you Potter?"

"Not you too?" Harry groaned then immediately regretted it when Draco's eyebrows climbed to his hairline. The expression on his face was guarded and he pulled his hand from Harry.

An incredibly debilitating sense of loss filled his chest and Harry pressed his palm, the one still hot from touching Draco's skin, to his chest. Another physical pain floated across his body as the pressure from his fingers rested on one of the kiss bruises.

"Teddy thinks I'm not his godfather."

Draco's mouth twitched. "He's twelve, Harry. When something isn't right with his world he is immediately going to blame the person in charge. Also, you seemed hesitant to give it to me last night. I didn't know if it was artistic temperament or something else."

That explanation settled something in Harry and made him more nervous that he'd ever been in his life. He reached for Draco's hand again and felt the hole in his chest throb when Draco pulled away.

"Did you mean what you said when you gave me the ring last night?"

Horrified, Harry stared at Draco, trying to recall the speech. He knew he had to have one, but nothing was coming to him. "I meant every word," Harry spat out. "What would give you the idea that I didn't say what I meant?"

Draco twisted the ring. "In spite of the going-ons here this morning, we have been at odds lately Harry. You've been distant, and while I think I can now chalk that up to you being distracted with the ring creation, the other matter between us still isn't settled."

"Is this about the mask?" Harry inquired, his voice soft as if he couldn't bear to repeat the words Draco had spoken to him five years ago. Learning that he and Draco had been out of sorts warred with the firm knowledge that they had been on good enough terms to have intimate knowledge of one another recently.

Draco frowned. "Dammit! I knew it. You went ahead and made it didn't you? Even after you finally listened to what I had to say. Merlin, Harry wasn't creating the ticket enough for you? Did you have to go and replicate the damned death's head face?"

Harry swallowed and looked up as Draco pushed to his feet. He paced in front of the bed, fingers once again going to the ring and turning it as if this was a habit, despite the evidence that Harry had only just given him the ring the previous night.

"Draco… stop, please."

Draco froze, turning to look at Harry. "Please tell me you didn't bring it into the house. Tell me you didn't bring it into our home, Harry. Not with the children here. You know how I feel about it. That's why we only just returned to the Manor this year."

Harry took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I didn't bring it here." He felt that deep within himself that the statement was truth, but there was also the niggling sensation that he had created the mask, and that it had something to do with this predicament he found himself in. The longer he was awake, here in this reality, the more his memories seemed to be changing. He could still recall two sets of his life; the one where he was alone and miserable, and this new life, one where he was happy. It made his heart and head hurt something fierce, like he was going to have one of those Voldemort induced headaches from when he was a child. He clutched his head and groaned.

Draco was instantly at his side. "What? What is it?"

The concern laced in Draco's voice broke through the pain and Harry felt instantly better with Draco pressed against him. The throbbing waves receded and Harry leaned harder against him. Draco's arms came about him, holding him tightly and Harry sighed.

"I _know_ I didn't bring the mask into our home, Draco, but I can't remember if I made it or not. The last thing I remember was leaving Ron and Hermione's after tucking Rose into bed, and then I woke here."

Draco groaned and held Harry tighter, his arms banded around Harry's chest, fingers weaved tightly together just in the middle of Harry's sternum. Harry clung to Draco's hands with his own, closing his eyes and revelling in the warmth of Draco's body and the feeling that he was safe, even as the confusion warred inside of him. "I can't deal with this right now. The children are expecting Christmas and I won't destroy that for them."

"No, I won't either."

Draco nodded, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt the press of his mouth, the gentle kiss searing his skin and forcing memories of their night together to the forefront of his mind. He squeezed Draco's hands once more then turned his head. Draco lifted his face and Harry slanted his lips over Draco's.

The chaste press of Draco's mouth against his own set his blood to boiling. Harry had never experienced anything like that kiss before. Heat pulsed through his body as Draco deepened the kiss and their tongues slid along one another. It was wet and sloppy and uncoordinated, as was their positions, but it was the best kiss Harry ever recalled receiving.

Draco withdrew and licked his lips, and shifted away from him, off the bed. Harry mourned the loss of heat and passion. Draco's taste still lingered on his mouth and in his memory, and now he wanted more of the real thing. He closed his eyes, savouring the sensations still running rampant through his mind and body.

Draco's hands closed about his cheeks and Harry looked into his face, stared into the grey eyes that peered back into his own green ones.

"I don't know what is going on, but we will figure this out. Magic is strange, but there is always a reason."

Harry nodded, reassured that he'd told Draco some of the truth even as he felt the ball of unease swell in his stomach.


	5. Getting Back In Touch WIth Reality

**Prompt used:** [](https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/RuQo0rCuRATFZzBJVRnz0tMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite)

 

After a shower and taking his time getting dressed, Harry realized he couldn't dawdle any longer. The strange morning, his musings on the changes in his life and what was coming up preyed on his mind. He was about to meet his family for the first time. Granted he'd already knew everyone with the exception of his children; and boy didn't that sound strange, but it also made him wonder exactly what had been going on with Draco.

 

It wasn't until he was under the heavy spray in the shower stall that he realized how tactile they had been. He almost never touched anyone and that thought alone made him yearn for the feel of Draco's fingers against his own. He had a vague thought of being touch-starved but brushed it away. Hermione and Molly both hugged him regularly, and if he always struggled to escape their arms quickly, at least in his memories, that didn't mean that he didn't like to be touched or even want to be, for that matter. Memories of past lovers came to him and he shoved away the unpleasant memories and words echoing in his conscience.

 

Not liking where his thoughts had ventured, Harry finished his bath and stepped out. Drying off and dressing, he stood in front of the full length mirror on the door to the armoire and waited. What was going to happen when he went outside the bedroom door? What would he see, and would the children be able to tell that he wasn't their real father?

 

It wasn't until Teddy knocked on the door and peered inside that Harry managed to move toward the portal.

 

"Acacia and Rigel only know that you've been ill this morning." Teddy said, softly as they left the room and headed toward the stairs.

 

"Ah, all right," Harry murmured and paused at the top of the stairs. The bannister was decorated in garland and lights and the theme carried on into the room below. He barely recognized his house. And it was his house, the one he had lived in before the strange wish at Ron and Hermione's, before he recalled the odd conversation about the mask, and he wondered if everything was still the same and if he could sneak into his cellar workshop to look or the accursed piece without being missed.

 

"Daddy?"

 

Harry startled at the high, little voice that spoke. A thrill went through him when he looked down at the little girl at the bottom of the stairs.

 

"Acacia," he whispered and heard Teddy say the same. He turned and gave Teddy a look, only to find Teddy studying him. He shook his head and started down the stairs.

 

"Good morning, darling," Harry said as he reached the bottom. Acacia reached for him and Harry swung her up into his arms. "Happy Christmas."

 

"Happy Christmas, Daddy."

 

Acacia buried her face into Harry's throat and he swallowed as her warmth and smell surrounded him. She appeared to be about five and still had that scent of a baby. The soft, gentle aroma of a nursery, baby powder and home. Rose had smelled like this for years and it made his heart ache to be able to inhale the fragrance once more. 

 

He wrapped his arms more tightly around the little girl, burying his face in her hair. He was suddenly flooded with memories of seeing the child from behind the hospital glass, her small body lined in spell lights as she slept. Her story was elusive in his mind, but he did recall that the girl's original family had been no more. He and Draco had taken her in, not only because they had wanted another child to share their lives, but because they were needed. And Harry had been entranced by the dark-haired angel sleeping peacefully inspite of the medical surroundings.

 

"Presents, Daddy?"

 

Acacia's little voice held no trauma remaining for her lackluster beginnings; only delight and anticipation. The pure trust of a child in an adult hadn't been driven from her young life. Harry chuckled and with a glare over his shoulder at Teddy's directional wave toward his kitchen, he stepped forward.

 

"Soon. Do you think I might have some breakfast first?"

 

Acacia sat up and looked at him. Her tiny hands cupped his face, and Harry stared back into the serious blue eyes. "If you have to. Father's makin' you tea, so we can have presents."

 

"Merlin, Acacia, the gifts aren't going anywhere, let Dad have some tea."

 

Harry turned and saw Draco standing next to a small boy of about nine or ten. Rigel Lestrange; the name floated in his head and it took everything he had not to pull away. Two years after the end of the war, a woman came forward with a small child and the whereabouts of Rabastan Lestrange. 

 

The brothers had escaped the night of the battle and though he had learned that Rodolphus had passed from his injuries, Rabastan had soldiered on. The woman had stumbled into the Auror's office when he'd been having lunch with Neville and dropped the child on the desk. She'd been abused and had only just escaped, and for some reason, Harry recalled all the details about this boy so clearly suddenly.

 

After telling her story, the woman had given the child up and fled. Aurors brought Rabastan's body in after a fight to the death. Rigel had gone into the system and Draco Malfoy had, after many legal battles, been allowed to adopt the boy. It had been for this boy's sake that Draco had sought him out about the Ministry's commission.

 

He studied the child, seeing none of the heavy and dark features of the Lestrange's. He took after his mother, a petite, blonde woman with platinum hair and silvery eyes. Rigel could have been Draco's progeny for his colouring and the hand on Rigel's shoulder showed how protective Draco was of him.

 

Harry glanced from Rigel to Draco, seeing him ready to reprimand the boy. He shook his head. "She's excited about the gifts, Rye. Aren't you?"

 

The nickname followed easily off his tongue and it felt right. He smiled to see it had startled both Draco and Teddy. He turned to the boy though and saw the fleeting hint of anticipation before he shrugged it off. "Presents are for babies."

 

Harry licked his lips, ignoring the stunned looks on Draco and Teddy's faces at Rigel's words. "Well then, perhaps we can give yours to someone that will appreciate them. Ron and Hermione will have no problem donating he gifts to the orphanage in St. Catchpole."

 

The expression on Rigel's face was priceless and the sullen returned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "No, no. That's all right. I want my gifts."

 

Harry nodded and set Acacia on her feet. She ran, screaming from the room and RIgel followed her. Draco stepped closer and stared at him.

 

"How did you know his name?"

 

Harry pulled his gaze away from Draco and looked at Teddy. "As I said before, I _am_ your godfather, Teddy, and he is my son."

 

Teddy swallowed and nodded then left the room and Harry turned back to Draco. 

 

"You handled that brilliantly, but then you usually do."

 

Harry reached for Draco's hand and was filled with warmth that he'd allowed the simple gesture.

 

"Christmas has always been rough for him."

 

Harry nodded and the memories came back again of Draco's fight to gain custody of the boy, and how Rigel had been treated in the foster homes before Draco had rescued him. He pulled Draco close, breathing in the scent of him; leather and tea, cinnamon from the sticky buns and it comforted Harry.

 

"Even after all this time, I understand how he feels," Harry said. "He's still waiting for someone to take the good things away. We'll continue to show him that 'things' might come and go, but _we_ will always be here for him."

 

Draco's hand tightened around his own, and Harry hoped that his words would remain true. He had to figure this out and find a way to keep this new family of his.


End file.
